Carpe Diem

Sweat soaked through Christian’s turtleneck and dripped off his forehead after hours of scraping and digging. The ground muddy and cold after the storm passed through bringing a mix of rain and flurries with it. The drop in temperature making things harder and doing nothing to cool his sweaty body.

He was relentless in this pursuit, just like everything else. The Harvard education, medical school at Johns Hopkins. Residency at Boston General. When you come from nothing, you’ll do anything to get something. Or hide something and not care about the consequences.

Shedding his heavy pea coat made the work easier and digging cathartic as he relived the past twelve months.

Christian’s career was on the rise as one of the top OBGYN specialists in Boston when his life changed forever. New Year’s Eve 1979 will be etched in his brain as one of those defining moments.

Standing at the bar in a pair of sky high platform shoes and a slinky silver dress, she was like a beacon for Dr. Christian Douglas. A star in a sea of nothing. That was the moment. The moment he forgot about his career, his success. Everything he’d worked so hard to achieve.

Once he locked eyes with her, it was over and she met him halfway across the dance floor, still nursing a gin and tonic.

“Feel like a dance? No one can resist Donna Summer." as she grabbed his hand under the big disco ball. Grinding and moving to the sweaty beat and it was all over. 1980 came in with a big bang.

Alisha Jones was her name and she rocked the good doctor’s world. They spent every evening together for almost a year. All that time together plotting, calculating and planning his final move. His instincts sharp, despite her sensuality and seductiveness. Cooking dinner for her one late October in 1980 was the evening that brought it all to a head.

“Did you hear? They discovered a war criminal in Buenos Aires. Seems he escaped right after the war on a steamer and changed his name and identity. Lived the high life as an investment banker. Family, yacht, house in Mykonos. A fraud, all of it. Now he’s rotting in prison.”

“How’d they find him?”

“It wasn’t that hard. Secrets are told, people talk. Sometimes with a bit of persuasion.” Standing up, Alisha took a few steps to get to the kitchen. Her bare feet making no sound as she continued toward the kitchen. Taking time to smooth out her long wool skirt, she deftly pulled her hair up into a makeshift bun before reaching into one of the pockets for her weapon.

“People can’t hide forever, Christian. They always make one fatal mistake. One tell that gives them away. Isn’t that right, comrade? You see, being with you this long was a game to me. A little cat and mouse.”

Rounding the corner, she held the gun up to take aim at Christian, standing next to the stove with a huge smirk.

“You have underestimated me, comrade. I know all about you. A peasant girl from Minsk that ate rotting vegetables and sold herself for chocolate after the war. Rescued by the KGB intelligence service and taught English so you could be planted and activated when the time was right. There’s much more, but we are on a bit of a tight schedule, so perhaps we will do show and tell another night? Now, what is your next move? I would think carefully before you try anything- permanent.”

Planting the shovel into the huge mound of earth, Christian reached into the pockets of his coat. “I guess It will be years before anyone ever finds anything."

Tossing keys, wallet, purse, stethoscope, leather bag and lab coat into the brown abyss, he yanked the shovel out of the ground and began the work of covering it all up. Each clod of dirt a piece of the old life left behind, a chance to begin again like an iris pushing up to grab the sun’s rays and spread its petals.

He walked out of the thick woods, pine and spruce trees giving way to thick cold mud to finally a dirt path where a black VW beetle was parked. Opening the hood, he tossed the shovel and his dirty coat into it and slammed it shut. Wiping his hands on his pants, he got into the car and started the engine.

Turning to his passenger, he whispered, “This is the price I’ve paid for peace of mind.” “So Alisha Jones. How does a trip to Mexico sound?”